I've Watched You Grow
by Fianna9
Summary: Originally a prowlxjazz 2011 challenge fic. Has turned into stories of the lives of Prowl, his creators and of course bits from Jazz. hints of slash, het, some dark moments, but also joy. G1AU
1. I've Watched You Grow

I've watched you grow…

By: Fianna9

Prompt: Surprising origin

Verse: G1/AU

Rating: PG13

Warnings: mentions of violence, mature themes, het, slash and threesomes; Cybertronian cursing

Summary: the contemplations of a carrier at her creation's bonding celebration

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, however, my husband owns several hundred transformers. All I own are the names of some OCs.

Thank you to taralynden for looking this over. I am laying claim to any and all mistakes.

I'm reposting this with a few minor spelling issues corrected.

A/N: for this fics purposes, the stages of advancement are sparkling, youngling, mech/femmeling, adult.

Wow, it's been vorns since I've seen you, and I find out you're getting bonded to that mech? Everyone else seems happy for you. I hardly know what to think. So much of it hurts to remember, but everything has lead up to this point.

I guess I could blame it all on that cold-sparked pit-spawn Tangent. I remember what he did to us…no me. He never even knew you existed, bitlet. The pit-spawn was so kind to me initially. He slowly seduced me…He told me how he wanted to bond with me and raise a family together…everything I had ever wanted. He wormed his way into my spark and my berth. Filter and Sprocket were so pleased when they met him; they thought he was worthy of their only sparkling. They showed him around and introduced him to everyone they knew, and they gave us their blessing when I left, even though it meant I was going to be across Cybertron from everything and everyone I'd ever known.

Then they offlined in that tragic "accidental" explosion on the way home. There I was collapsed on the floor, a trembling wreck, and he walked through the door. I reached for him to comfort me, and, Primus…. He stabbed me, bitlet, and he threw me into a compactor to make me disappear. All he had wanted me for was my creators' connections and credits. The glitch-spawn had hacked the Network, listed me as dead with my creators and, as my falsely listed bondmate, stolen everything I was supposed to have. He just threw me out when I had served my purpose.

Luckily, I was able to drag myself out of there before it was turned on. Unfortunately, I had no identity anymore. I found out the hard way that he even covered his tracks by telling the enforcers that a "low class prostibot" had attempted to impersonate his dead mate. I couldn't get anyone to believe that I was who I said I was, and I found myself on the streets.

I almost lost you, bitlet. As it is, I blame the pit-spawn for your perceived defects. It was difficult to get enough to keep both of us online let alone healthy, and I know it affected your development. I went to the free clinic for poor 'bots, but I heard the medic say that, with your poor prognosis; they should "extract it" because you would be a waste of resources. I slipped out and never went back; I just knew they wouldn't ask for my permission; they would just terminate you. I had no other way to trade for energon or shelter; the pit-spawn had stolen it all. I was reduced to selling my frame and stealing to survive. I don't know if we could have continued for that much longer on our own.

To this cycle, I still don't know what made those two break all the regulations they were sworn to uphold. Maybe Primus finally decided to smile down on us. They should have taken me in for theft; I'll admit I stole that energon practically in front of them. Something made them see more than just a thief; something made them pay for what I had taken. They hustled me to a small, out-of-the-way place; I thought they were going to offline me or worse. Instead, they gave me the energon to drink and asked me why I was stealing. Something in their optics made me break down. I screamed that I was a carrying whore; I cried out that the clinic said that my bitlet should be terminated. I looked up, and I will never forget their two horrified faces.

They invited me into their home; it was barely big enough for the two of them to have berths but they insisted that I would not be calling it home. Instead of treating me like filth, they treated me like I was precious crystal. They actually debated over who got to lie and claim you, bitlet. They both had badly wanted a sparkling, and through me, they saw the opportunity to finally have one of their own.

They knew that I needed to be seen by a medic, and they swore up and down that this medic wouldn't do anything bad to you. They swore that they had known him forever, and Ratchet would shout down and beat senseless anyone trying to harm a sparkling in his presence no matter whom it was. It took a lot of persuasion, but I knew that you needed help that we didn't have the knowledge to give. Ratchet was disgusted when he found out why I was so scared of him, and he did everything he swore that he would do-everything he could-to make certain that you turned out to be as healthy as possible. He told us that you were a mechling and helped us prepare for your arrival. I know that he strongly suspects that neither of them were your creator, but he's never actually asked us about it. I'm certain that he still keeps a close optic on you.

I came up with a cover story that would allow both of them to properly take care of you and act as cocreators. They told everyone that we'd gotten together, and I'd accidentally sparked. They took some ribbing, but it explained why I was carrying and moving in with an established pair. I swear, those two bought everything a sparkling could possibly want or need. They were obsessed with learning everything they could about your needs and possible desires. It was so funny when it came time for your extraction. They paced and ranted, worried about every possible thing that might go wrong or be forgotten, all while trying to keep me calm and collected. I was laughing so hard at them, and Ratchet was muttering about crazy overprotective mechs.

They were so happy when you finally came online. We knew that your frame would probably be different from theirs, so they waited until they knew what you'd look like before they forged identity papers for me. We caused them to break more rules than they had before or since, but they still swear to this orn that they never regretted it once. Seeing the love and affection in their faces as they looked at you melted the crystal around my spark.

Ratchet had warned us that there might be residual damage from the trauma and starvation during your carrying time. Even though we thought we were prepared, nothing could prevent our despair when we found out you had innate, unrepairable optical damage. Ratchet swore that your frames advanced sensory systems could adapt to the difference, especially since you were so young. He neglected to list it in any public medical file, because he knew the higher-ups would want you terminated because of your defect. I can't image what any of us would have done if we'd lost you.

Ratchet was determined to stay your medic and would have hit us all over the helms if we tried to find another. Not that we would have since he was practically your grandcreator by this point. When we brought you in because you wouldn't stop crying, he warned us that your audio receptors and secondary sensory systems were unusually acute, and that loud noises would always be a problem. We had to lower the volume on the music after that, which I'm certain the neighbors appreciated.

As far as the rest of the city was concerned, bitlet, you grew up with two creators and a carrier. They both doted on you; you could do nothing wrong in their optics. They bragged about you all the time at work and showed vids of you off to everyone they knew. I treasure the memories of them chirping and clicking at you, cradled securely in their arms. We used to stand watching you while you recharged. I swear they were almost disappointed when it came time for you to get your first upgrades; they said that they were losing their little bitling. Ratchet smacked them for that one.

I remember the first time you began crawling, and how determined you were to explore everything. It took everything we had not to smother you with help, but they reminded me that you would have to learn to take care of yourself. You were always so curious about what was going on around you. You learned to walk remarkably quickly and were a little terror, racing around the room and getting into everything.

Most sparklings chew on things; you licked them. I swear every time I turned around you were licking the walls or a datapad. Ratchet said it was just another way to study your surroundings. It was funny listening to him say that while you were behind him licking his wrench. I'm just dying to pull those vid files out later; but it wouldn't do to embarrass you in front of anyone but your dearest friends. Elita loves them.

As you grew older, it was easier for us to help you hide your vision problem. We learned that you could see, just not very well and with very little detail. Your focus was more on your sensors; the patterns, movements and shapes that your sensory wings detected. We taught you to read through direct linkup to datapads rather than scanning them. No one thought anything of it because your co-creator has always had a reputation for being security conscious. Okay, paranoid.

Bitlet, you were so open and friendly back then; I swear you couldn't process that anyone might be an enemy. I got a job as a dancer, and the three of us worked hard to earn enough for you to have the best possible upgrades. They talked about modifying a visor, but Ratchet said it wouldn't fix your problems.

If it wasn't for the fact that your co-creator has lived with a glitch his entire existence, I don't know what I would have done when you locked up for the first time. As it was, they knew exactly how to get you rebooted and help you deal with the processor ache. We rushed you over to Ratchet, who determined that it was also preextraction damage. He told us not to worry too much. The damage couldn't be severe because it hadn't shown up until now, and your systems had adapted to it.

You had your first crush not long after your first upgrade. I wonder if you remember how often you trailed after Wheeljack when he stopped by to visit Ratchet. Poor 'Jack couldn't turn around without seeing your eager face and hearing you beg him for stories. Ratchet loved it and wanted him to move here permanently, mostly because 'Jack was too afraid of hurting you to work on anything risky while you were around. Unfortunately for Ratchet, you grew out of it before 'Jack agreed to move.

Your youngling vorns went by too quickly for us. We were so proud when you decided to become an enforcer and went to the academy. Ratchet certified you as fit; he said that your sensory systems were better than most mech's optics. It was hard having you so far away, but you seemed happy there. You sent us so many messages about your classes and your new friends. We watched at a distance as you matured into the fine mech you are now.

Times were getting harder, and there were disgruntled 'bots everywhere. I can sympathize with the lower classes that initially sided with the Decepticons; I know what it's like to never know where your energon is going to come from next. Your cocreators grumbled all the time about new regulations and restrictions and how they were hurting the very citizens that should be protected.

I remember your first real lover, the one you commed us about afterwards. I wanted to terminate him; he was so much like the pit-spawn. You admitted that he abused your trust and your frame, but you refused to tell us everything that he did to you. To this cycle I wish Soundwave could have been properly punished, but he disappeared into the Decepticons. You changed so much after that; only family saw any trace of the mech you once were. Oh, you would smile sometimes for us, but it never reached your optics. You threw yourself into your work, striving to be the best. You succeeded in that, but did so by keeping everyone else away. I know you tried to pretend that you didn't care, but no one can be that alone and cold forever.

We were all so worried about you. The two of them joined the Autobots when you did so they could keep an optic on you. They discretely followed you from base to base, watching you move up on the ranks and isolate yourself even more.

I thank Primus every jorn for those two, you know. They did a great deal to shape you into the mech that you are today. Your dedication to your responsibilities and your loyalty came from them. They're the ones that taught you to follow and obey the rules, but that the rules should serve the public good and not just a privileged few.

Oh, bitlet, I've missed you so much.

They told me that this is finally The One. That he does everything he can to make you happy; he broke through your walls. That you smile more again, and you're slowly opening up again. That this one's been good to you, and that he takes care of you. They should know; they've been there for you when I couldn't be around. I hope you'll be happy bitlet, and I'm certain they've got enough dirt on him if you're not.

A familiar, warm voice over the comm interrupted her introspection. "Star, I'm gonna drag Red outta the Security box and we'll meet ya down there. After all, we gotta toast our bitlet gettin' bonded."

Firestar got up and went to grab two more cubes of highgrade for her two mechs; Red and Inferno would be down soon enough. The raucous celebration in the Rec Room continued around her, as Jazz bounded to his 'pedes and dragged a semi-reluctant Prowl out onto the dance floor.

Smirking slightly, she thought _'Hopefully Tangent, or I guess I should call you Onslaught now, you'll never find out that Prowl was actually yours. We're certainly never going to tell him.'_


	2. The Escape

Title: The Escape

By: Fianna9

Prompt: Sneaky

Verse: G1/AU (Watching verse)

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Summary: An attempt to evade discovery

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. All I own is the name of an OC.

A/N: Just a short little story taking place when Prowl is a youngling; not too long after his first upgrade. I hope you enjoy it. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated.

Prowl crawled silently through the long, dark tunnel. The metal passage leached the heat from his body, sending chills through his frame. A whimper tried to force its way out as his systems protested the cold, but, at this point in the journey, silence was mandatory. The small reddish form crawling behind him was losing heat at a much quicker pace, but he was also trying to be quiet. The slightest sound would alert their pursuers to their location. Small breaths of warm air floated across his frame and sensory wings, the promising warmth drawing him towards its comfort.

Cautiously, he crept down the shaft, always listening for their pursuers. It was risky taking the smaller one with him, but he had been eager to join in the quest. His most recent opponent was crafty. The orange-brown one had quickly noticed the escape and alerted the others. Prowl could hear them searching; multiple voices had drifted past calling out orders and instructions. They were primarily looking for them on the floors below, assuming that he would head to the ground. However, after his last attempt he had decided to head towards the sky. There they could hide until the search spread out far enough to make gaps that could be used to sneak past the pursuers and get to safety.

A dimly lit section of the floor caught his attention, and Prowl crept forward cautiously, searching for traps. He paused for a moment, listening intently. Hearing nothing, he took a gamble that they were alone and made a small, almost inaudible click. The echoes flittered across his chevron, telling him that this patch wasn't made of the same material as the walls. Thermals didn't register the same temperature as the metal around it. Perhaps he had found one of the hatches leading into a secure, warm closet where they could rest before continuing. Hesitant, he crouched lower, slowly creeping towards the potential trap. There was more testing that would need to be done before he would risk crossing or attempting to open it.

As he reached the edge and started to lean down to discover what it was made of, the material was suddenly ripped away, light filling the shaft. Two large dark shapes reached into the exposed opening in the ventilation system. Clicking madly, he yanked his head up and tried to scramble backwards, to hide further in the darkness. The large servo grabbed him by the waist and pulled him gently out into the brightness. The other servo reached further in and pulled the little red one out as well.

"_It's okay, Red, Star. I've got them. Lil' guys made it up two floors just like ya said. Call off the searchers."_

The familiar servos snuggled him close, allowing the warmth of the much larger frame to alleviate the chills that filled his systems. "There ya are, bitlets. Ya gave everybody a big scare." As the rumbling voice of his larger creator filled his audios, Prowl halted his squirming and shifted to stare up at the large red figure.

"Fun." The red minibot piped up, waving happily. "Again."

"Red's tearin' Stopgate apart for not readin' the report he gave him when he picked ya up. He was warned ya like to explore. The silly mech didn't even check to see that ya have a tracer." Relieved to have found the wayward younglings, Inferno began carrying the happy pair down the hallway towards their respective homes. "No more playing hide 'n' seek with the sitters, ya here? And let's get little Cliffy home. His carrier is worried."

"Home." Prowl sighed contently, snuggled in his larger creator's arms; his new friend curled up with him. He would have to devise another plan later; he knew there would be another chance to play. For now, though, he was warm and safe.


	3. Halloween Drabbles

Title: Halloween Drabbles

By: Fianna9

Verse: G1/AU (Watching verse)

Rating: T

Warnings: slight supernatural theme, small mention of violence

Summary: a gift of drabbles for Halloween

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this series so far. I'm sorry it's taken so long to update. Please consider these drabbles a small Halloween gift.

Drabble 1: (Pre-Earth)

"Prowl meet our new communications officer, Blaster." Turning towards Prime, Prowl barely concealed his flinch of disgust when he realized what was standing in front of him. Forcing himself to be civil, he nodded curtly towards the reddish mech.

Ratchet was the only one who knew why Prowl hated hosts. Despite being told repeatedly that not all of them acted like Soundwave, as far as Prowl was concerned all hosts were monsters. Unlike most mechs, Prowl knew exactly how hosts created those…abominations they called symbionts.

He may have to work with a spark drainer, but he would never trust him.

Drabble 2: (begins shortly after waking on Earth)

"If we could eventually unite after such a divisive war, I'm certain your people can do the same." The old man sighed. "Thank you for the ride, it's a long way from Lexington to my old home. I have many colleagues and former enemies to visit tonight, and time is short."

Prowl opened his door and waited for the grayish-white form to exit. "Thank you for your thoughts and observations, sir. I hope your gathering proves satisfactory."

Several months later, Sparkplug stared disbelievingly at Prowl. "You're telling me that Halloween night you took General Lee to Arlington National Cemetery?"

Drabble 3

"So, these things ward off evil spirits?" Sideswipe stared down curiously.

"Once, but now we just make them for fun." Spike continued his carving efforts.

"This has possibilities…" Sideswipe muttered wandering off. "Sunny, I've got an idea…"

Startled by the yellow-eyed grinning drone slowly crawling towards him, Ravage pounced, hoping to disable it before Red Alert located him.

After Steeljaw caught whiff of the pumpkin-scented Ravage in the vents and drove him off, Prowl thanked Sideswipe for his creative prank inadvertently turned security measure and refrained from brigging him after the minibots agreed to help clean up the mess.

Drabble 4

Every year at Halloween the Ark had a party; Optimus was always Superman. This year, Jazz and Blaster were the Blues Brothers; the minibots were all dwarves carrying axes. Almost everyone dressed up.

Every year previous, one mech had declined to attend saying he was too busy. That changed this year. Standing in the doorway was a black, winged frame flickering with red flames. A flaming black sword gripped in one clawed hand; a massive, multiheaded whip coiled at his side. Everyone stared in awe at Prowl's balrog costume.

Inferno knew Prowl was finally releasing the pain and living again.

Drabble 5

Having had prior experience with this season's madness, Windcharger immediately contacted security and turned over the newest potential hazards on the Ark as soon as he spotted them.

Red Alert studied the innocuous objects carefully, wary of traps. The color and consistency were correct but further testing would be necessary before they could be considered safe for consumption. Since Windcharger had followed procedures, Red Alert saw every reason to grant him first dibs if they proved neither prank nor Wheeljack experiment. With this many pranksters around, it paid to be extra cautious of energon treats left in the Rec Room.


	4. I knew you when I first met you

Title: I knew you when I first met you

By Fianna9

Verse: G1/AU (Watching verse)

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1773

Prompt: Yuanfen

Disclaimer: I know I don't own Transformers. So much for wishful thinking.

Summary: Sometimes the person you meet doesn't stay a stranger for long

A/N: I hope I got the spirit of this prompt with this multi-section fic, but I ran out of time. Sorry it's a little disjointed. The first section takes place pre-Prowl. The second section is right before "The Escape". The third is not long after the majority of the family joined the Autobots. Special thanks to MyNameIsJag on for suggesting a line of dialogue used by Cliffjumper.

"_comm speak_"

*-*-* *-*-* = scene breaks because line breaks don't always work

*time* = time lapse

Inferno followed Red Alert back home after shift change, mostly ignoring the flow of comm traffic his partner continued to monitor. Red's thoroughness at work was legendary, and Swiftlink was accepting of Red's obsession with tracking patterns in activities occurring on all shifts. Grateful as he was that Red had overcome his initial inherent distrust and was willing to leave him alone in what was now their quarters, Inferno was hoping that his partner would be willing to spend time in more…enjoyable pursuits tonight. Their small quarters could get lonely when they were on different shifts, and he was craving physical and field contact tonight.

Red Alert's field flared as he veered off to the left sharply, angling towards a shop. "_Pay the vendor on the right for three energon cubes. Pick up two_." Transforming, he quickly hustled a figure into the alley.

Obedient but slightly confused by the cryptic instruction, Inferno stopped outside the alleyway just as an angry shopkeeper headed out the door. After hearing him rant about a thief, Red Alert's instructions made a lot more sense. "Sorry about the mix-up. We'll take care of it." Defusing the mech's wrath, Inferno lead him back inside. Picking up two cubes, Inferno paid slightly more than normal for three cubes and walked outside.

Turning the corner, he saw Red Alert crouched next to a cowering, battered red femme. Scanning her, Inferno immediately commed his partner. "C_areful. She's incredibly weak, and she's carrying_." Both mechs knelt down next to the terrified femme, neither wishing to cause her any further pain but both wanting to know how she came to be in this state.

*-*-*Two vorns later*-*-*

Firestar cautiously carried Prowl down the corridor toward the shift care center. Given the need to hide his difficulties from authorities, Prowl had been sheltered since extraction. It had taken Ratchet pointing out that the little one was in near isolation to convince her mechs to search out a safe environment for him to learn social interaction.

A chime disrupted her thoughts, and Firestar looked over at an orange and brown doorwinged mech standing in the doorway. A smile crossed his features as he reached for Prowl. "Firestar? I'm Stopgate. This must be Prowl?"

Clutching Prowl close to her chestplate, Firestar shifted away from the overly friendly mech. "My mates told me that they spoke to you about Prowl staying here?" Red had assured her that this mech's qualifications had thoroughly checked out, but she was still nervous about leaving Prowl with a stranger.

"Yes, it's good to see a Praxian youngling around here. I'm certain the three of us will get along just fine." Stopgate waved her inside.

Firestar glanced warily at him. "Three of us?"

"Of course, we're the only Praxians in this building, and we must stick together. I must admit, I'm surprised that you produced a doorwing frame after sparking with a nonPraxian. Still, he's well proportioned and should turn out to be quite a handsome mech."

"_Well, he's not likely to harm Prowl, but I'm not so sure I like his attitude towards you two._" Firestar swiftly commed Inferno as she stepped inside.

"_Yeah, Red said he's got a rep as kind of a stuck-up, but he's supposed to be really good with sparklings. Don't worry, he got the whole rundown, and he'll take good care of the bitlet_. "

Reassured by Inferno's words, Firestar walked into the middle of youngling heaven. There were toy boxes along the far wall, and several younglings were playing with blocks in corner. Putting Prowl down on the floor, she motioned him towards the others. "Go on, little one. The others wanna play. Don't you wanna play with them?"

Looking doubtful, Prowl peered around. Several small colorful blurs his size clustered further away. Glancing warily at his carrier, he slowly crawled across the floor.

"Bye now, Prowl. Be good." Firestar sighed and slowly backed out of the room. Prowl didn't seem to be too upset that she was out of sight. Reluctantly, she said goodbye to Stopgate and promised to return in a few cycles to pick him back up. Everyone was worried that Prowl would start missing his caregivers if they were separated too long.

Just over a cycle later, Stopgate smiled as he watched the younglings. Red Alert was entirely too paranoid. Prowl had been rather reluctant to play with any of the other younglings, but he wasn't a bit of trouble sitting over by himself. A cry from the far side of the room drew his attention away momentarily. Two younglings were squabbling over a block.

Seizing the opportunity as the orange-brown one again moved away, Prowl turned to the floor vent he had been quietly studying. The toss-toy he had been given by the white-loud one worked quite nicely turning the little pieces on the corners. As the last of the small pieces slipped out, the little reddish form closest to him sat up. Before Prowl could react, the little reddish one grabbed the grate and pulled it away from the wall. Flickering his optics, Prowl stared at the other. Coming to a decision, he crawled into the vent and waved at the small one. He immediately crawled in after Prowl and pulled the vent cover against the wall behind them. Grinning, the two new friends crawled off to explore.

Having dealt with the squabble, Stopgate turned back to the rest of the room. A quick head count to make certain everyone was okay…. "Okay, where are you two hiding? Cliffjumper, Prowl, come on out…playtime's over…"

*-*-*many, many vorns later*-*-*

"Thanks for the head's up, Beachcomber." Hubcap acknowledged the transmission. "We'll keep an optic out for trouble." After disconnecting, Hubcap realized that there was nothing else to do but comm Lieutenant Prowl with the bad news.

As one of the unofficial leaders of the Autobot minibots, Cliffjumper's calling the lieutenant a friend had eased the initial uneasy tolerance of the quiet mech. The tolerance had turned to acceptance as Lieutenant Prowl had proven to be one of the few officers on any base who actually assigned minibots to anything other than menial duties. Very few of the larger mechs in the arm realized exactly how protective the minibots were of the duty officer at Moon Base 2. The new transfers weren't going to know what hit them.

Prowl barely restrained himself for banging his helm against the desk as he heard Hubcap's report. Of course the base commander hadn't bothered to warn him about their new transfers. He liked the larger menaces and thought they were better soldiers than the minibots he'd been forced to accept. Of course, Commander Sideshot didn't have to deal with all the problems they caused. Personally, Prowl would gladly work with any of the minibots over any of the new transfers. Groaning to himself, Prowl linked to the datapad and reviewed the new soldiers he'd have to integrate into the current roster. Two names stood out. Primus, why had the new Prime sent them here?

Of course they had been sent the twin terrors Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. The troublesome duo barely listened to anyone on or off the battlefield. Prowl had dealt with them once in the past. Cliffjumper had been driving into a rage by their taunts, and Prowl had been forced to discipline all three of them. He'd known they were going to be a permanent processor ache wherever they were assigned, and he'd known they were eventually going to be his problem.

*-*-*Half a vorn later*-*-*

Cliffjumper glared angrily across the rec room at the new mechs. All he'd wanted was a nice cube of energon, not the slag he'd been hearing coming out of their mouths. He smiled darkly at the thought of Ratchet's reaction.

"What do you care?" Sunstreaker looked bored, which meant Cliffjumper probably shouldn't attract his attention, even though he was itching for a rematch. Prowl was so disappointed when he had to discipline his old friend for fighting. Maybe if the frontliner got provoked into throwing the first punch…

"Come on, Sunny. Jazz was practically drooling all over that Praxian. You know he loves a challenge, but Jazz just isn't aggressive enough for someone like that. I'm telling you, that icy sparked won't pay attention to anything subtle and with those panels…" Sideswipe grinned. "Heck, I might give a try at him after Jazz gives up." Sideswipe leaned back in the chair, smirking at his twin.

Cliffjumper froze at the thought of someone getting aggressive like that with Prowl. If there was one thing that would shatter him…. Enraged and completely forgetting his original thoughts, he stormed towards the twins and tackled Sideswipe.

*Twelve cycles later*

After getting out of the brig, Cliffjumper set out to find the special ops commander. He'd seen the mech briefly when he'd arrived to survey their base, but he hadn't actually met him. "_Hubcap, where's Jazz_?"

"_That cool frame's in the security room_."

"_With Red_?"

"_Yep_."

Grinning, Cliffjumper veered right and headed straight for Red Alert's lair. It was just the three of them on this base, but they'd had to hide their pre-Autobot friendship and family connection from Sideshot. Except for mechs like the twins who had to be together, Sideshot didn't like close mechs working on the same base. He claimed familiarity bred special treatment and ignored that it also bred support. Reaching the door, Cliffjumper sent a quick identifying comm pulse. The door unlocked immediately, and he entered the lair. "_I also heard the twins. I've researched this mech and already spoken to the others. Inferno says he's no threat and a good mech_."

Jazz stood unobtrusively off to the side trying not to get in the security officer's way. Ratchet had warned him that Red Alert was extremely particular about allowing access to his systems. He glanced over as the door opened and a red minibot walked into the office. The saboteur was mildly surprised that the highly vigilant security officer didn't seem to mind the intrusion. Figuring that it wouldn't hurt to befriend the mech, he extended a servo with a smile. "I'm Jazz."

"We know." Both mechs looked him up and down. Glancing quickly at each other, the smaller red mech seemed to come to a conclusion. "I'm Cliffjumper. If you hurt Prowl, I'll break your kneecaps." A quick nod towards Red Alert, "He'll destroy you, and we will all dedicate our existence to making your life the pit. If you don't hurt him, we'll welcome you into the family probably before he does." Having said his piece the minibot turned and walked out of the room.


	5. Just a Couple of Drabbles

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long for me to post anything, but I appear to have packed my muses during my move. Also, I do like glitchy Red Alert in fics, but he and Prowl really can't be as bad as they're often portrayed.

Drabble 6: (Set after Drabble 4)

"What 'cha watching, sir?" Hot Rod flopped down in front of the brightly flickering screen.

"The episode is entitled _Duck Amuck_. You are welcome to observe if you desire."

After the credits rolled, Hot Rod rubbed his helm wincing. "That made no fraggin' sense."

Red Alert growled, "As Bumblebee stated at your arrival briefing, it is advised for all personnel to reference Chapter 3, subsections B through E before viewing any Earth entertainment programming, specifically animation. Ratchet does not enjoy defragging gliched processors."

After a few moments, Hot Rod sputtered, "What the frack are _Cartoon Physics_? And what's _TV Tropes_?"

Drabble 7: (Set after "The Escape")

"I've got them again tonight, Ratchet."

Ratchet looked up from his medical datapad to his mate. Wheeljack stood in front of him looking down at the two younglings clinging to his limbs. Prowl was staring at his flickering headfins while Cliffjumper sat on his right foot.

"Of course you do, 'Jack. They've been glued to you for the past orn. In fact, you're the only sitter they haven't tried to escape from. Firestar and Tiller want to know what you did to enthrall those little terrors."

"Boom!" Cliffjumper yelled as Prowl waved his doorwings enthusiastically.

"What?" Ratchet grabbed his wrench.


	6. The past will catch up with you

Title: The past will catch up with you

By: Fianna9

Prompt: Locked up secrets revealed

Verse: G1/AU (Watching verse)

Rating: T

Warnings: mention of sexual abuse, prejudice

Summary: Prowl can't keep what happened to him hidden from Jazz forever

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.

A/N: This takes place about two vorn after Jazz finally convinced Prowl to go on a date with him. They haven't been intimate yet. This takes place shortly after Halloween Drabble 1.

**Bold** = comm speech

_Italics_ = internal thought

* * *

><p>Jazz waited until the door had closed before perching on Prowl's desk. The Praxian didn't even look up at the familiar performance. "What do you want, Jazz?"<p>

"I was wondering if you wanted to get some energon with us, Prowler?" Jazz reached over and tapped on Prowl's datapad.

"Us?" Prowl smiled and moved the datapad away from Jazz.

"Yeah, my best friend just transferred here, and we're meeting in the rec room. You'll like him; he's a hard worker and a good mech. And Blaster's symbionts are great little guys."

Prowl's sensory wings flinched back sharply. "I won't be able to join you. I need to finish these reports, Jazz."

"Now?" Jazz whined, "You've put in a full shift and a half, Prowler. You need to get out and refuel."

"I'm busy, Jazz." Prowl pretended to refocus on the report in his servos. "Perhaps Mirage can meet you tonight?"

"I'll ask him, but I'd rather have you." A hurt expression flickered across Jazz's face before he turned and left the office.

Prowl sat frozen for a moment before comming Red Alert. **Please keep an optic on him.**

**Which one?**

After a moment's hesitation, he replied.**Both of them.**

**Already being done, bitlet.**

**Thank you creator**_._

-Four orn later-

Jazz was startled when he and Blaster walked into the staff meeting. Prowl was seated between Ratchet and Red Alert. For the first time in a vorn, Prowl hadn't saved a nearby seat for him. Mildy confused, Jazz took the seat on the other side of Prime near Ironhide, Blaster sitting down next to him. Prowl didn't look over at them once during the entire meeting.

After the meeting was over, Red Alert began talking to Blaster about a potential communications security issue; Ratchet cornered Jazz to discuss Mirage's injuries during his last mission. When Jazz looked over, Prowl was gone.

-Five jour later-

**They appear to be friendly. Maybe they really are different from him.**

**Appearances can be deceiving, Creator. Please remain alert for trouble.**

**That's Red's job, bitlet, but I'll keep an optic 'em.**

-Nine orn later-

"Yah know if you need room for the Wreckers I can bunk with you." Jazz grinned shamelessly at Prowl. "Springer can have my quarters; he knows not to play with anything in my space."

"Jazz, it would be an unprofessional and inappropriate action for us to share quarters." Prowl sighed as he looked over the space requirements. "The speculation and gossip involved would impact morale."

Frag Xantium for breaking down and stranding the Wreckers in Iacon. If it weren't for their public grumbling Jazz would have assumed they did it just to spite Prowl and make more work for him. "I think the gossip chain would relish the idea of you getting some action." Jazz stepped around and traced a servo lightly along Prowl's sensory panel. "It might fix some of the tension you've got going on. Although it wouldn't be conducive to my recharge time, that's for sure." A wince crossed Prowl's brow and he shifted slightly away from Jazz. After a long moment of silence, Jazz continued, "If you're still not interested in sharing I can bunk with Blaster, he won't mind."

Prowl momentarily clenched his servos as his systems began running hotter. "It is unnecessary for officers to share bunks. I will find suitable accommodations for them. The situation shouldn't continue long enough to cause a morale issue for the troops."

"It's no problem, Prowler. I know it will take some of the stress off you to have a spare room available." Jazz smiled, slightly distracted by the faint trembling beneath his servos.

"It's not necessary, Jazz." Prowl snapped, standing quickly while whipping his panels out of Jazz's reach.

"Sorry, love. Just trying to help." Jazz raised both arms and backed out of the office away from the frazzled Praxian.

After the door closed, Prowl huddled in his chair for almost a jour before continuing his work.

-Five orn later-

"Prowl." Prowl looked up at Jazz standing across from his desk.

"Yes, Jazz?" He put down and disconnected the datapad from his wrist. Jazz had expressed irritation in the past if Prowl kept reading while he was talking.

"Blaster's Head of Communications, correct?" Jazz leaned forward, visor darkened in frustration.

"That is the position Prime has granted him." Prowl forced a grimace from crossing his face.

"Why are you constantly putting Hubcap and Cosmos on overlapping shifts in the Comm Room with him?" Jazz crossed both arms and started tapping his foot.

"The Decepticons have been unusually active recently, and our bases require support. Are you questioning my staffing levels, Lieutenant Commander?" Prowl started back at Jazz, wings rising visibly.

"No, sir. I'm just trying to understand why he's not allowed to set his own staffing levels yet like every other department head." Jazz stepped back slightly, startled by Prowl's level of anger.

"I am in charge of staffing, Jazz, and I will determine when that is called for. Good orn." Prowl stared pointedly at the door.

Stung, Jazz turned and stomped out.

-Two orn later-

**Do Hubcap and Cosmos have any issues with their assignments? I know I have increased their time in the Comm Center by twenty-seven percent.**

**They're fine with it, Prowl. Don't stress your processor. They'll find Soundwave's tricks.**

-Six orn later-

"We need to finish this inspection, Jazz." Prowl standing with a familiar datapad linked to his wrist.

"The Medbay will be here in the morning. Ratchet's not going to let it run away. Rewind got a vid want to watch with you. They're all going to watch it tonight."

"Our schedules do not have the allocated time for a movie this orn. Our duties to the Autobots must come first." After Jazz's frustrated growl, Prowl relented slightly. "Perhaps you can view it tomorrow when after your shift."

"Fine. Why should I expect anything else." Jazz almost failed to notice Prowl's dipped wings, but First Aid's worried expression caught his optic and drew his attention. Still mad at being denied time with his partner again, he didn't ask about it. This time.

-Eight jour later-

**Jazz's condition is still within acceptable parameters?**

**Nothing's wrong, all reading are normal. Prowl…Blaster and Jazz have known each other for a very long time. He won't do anything like. You don't need to worry about Jazz.**

**Understood, Ratchet.**

-Two orn later-

_This is ridiculous._ Jazz watched in disbelief as Prowl turned and almost fled from their table, leaving him sitting there with two half-full cubes of highgrade. Grumbling he drained both cubes. _Forgot a meeting with Prime my aft._ Somehow he wasn't surprised to see Steeljaw's sad optics peering out from beneath a table on the other side of the room.

-One orn later-

"I don't know what's going on. He doesn't seem want to spend time with me anymore." Taking a drink, he grumbled, "And he nearly bit my servos off when I tried to touch him. Maybe he's tired of me."

"Did it start when we got here?" Jazz nodded to the taller of his table companions. "It's not you, Jazz. It's us."

Jazz stared at his long-time friend in disbelief. "Whatcha mean, mech?"

"We always had problems with him, even on different bases. Not that he was anything but professional, but he doesn't seem to like us." Blaster sighed, gesturing towards their table companions.

"We've all noticed even if others won't admit it." Rewind sighed.

Ramhorn grumbled. "He can barely look at us let along be in the same room. Stuck-up, sparkless glitch…"

"Easy, you can't talk about a commander like that." Blaster patted the stubborn symbiont's head. "Seriously, Jazz, I don't know why, but he doesn't trust any of us. He seems to have the most problem with Steeljaw, but he actively avoids all the symbionts."

"I'll find out what's wrong. I've never seen Prowl discriminate against anyone." Jazz shook his head. The pieces weren't quite fitting together. It was definitely past time to get to work puzzling this out.

-Two orn later-

From what Jazz could tell there were only four mechs on base who might know why Prowl was being so hostile towards Blaster. Unfortunately Jazz had struck out so far.

Red Alert refused to discuss the situation; he had implied that he was watching Blaster and his symbionts for any possible problems. Jazz got the strong impression Red expected the problems to come from Blaster not Prowl.

Inferno had expressed sympathy for Blaster's situation and seemed worried that Prowl was this visibly disturbed. He had insisted that Prowl was too professional to allow it to cause real problems in the base. The not so subtle implication that Prowl's problem with Blaster was the same as Cliffjumper's problem with the Twins didn't fly with Jazz. Clearly there was more to it.

Ratchet had cut Jazz off as soon as he mentioned Blaster and Prowl in the same sentence. Curiously, the medic had cited patient confidentiality when pressed. Jazz knew better than to try to break into the medical computer. That would get him in trouble with Prime as well as Red Alert and Ratchet. Not to mention Prowl probably wouldn't forgive him.

Jazz's last hope was Cliffjumper.

-Four jour later-

"Prowl's always stood up for us minibots; I'm not going behind his back." Cliffjumper growled at the Spec Ops mech.

"I'm not trying to go behind his back; I just want to know what's wrong." At Cliffjumper's disbelieving look, Jazz continued. "His problem with Blaster is affecting his work, Cliffjumper. Wreckers, Twins, prank wars, supply shortages, Prime drunk in the brig…nothing affects Prowl's work."

"If it's that bad it involves Prime." Cliffjumper reluctantly pointed out. "Why are you bringing it to me?"

"I don't want to involve Prime if I can help it." Jazz knelt down in front of the minibot. "I know you've known him forever. You confronted me to protect him. 'Jumper, he's been pulling away from me, and I don't know why. He barely even lets me touch him, but he stares like I'm going to be the one to fall apart."

Visibly reluctant, Cliffjumper relented. "All I can tell you is something happened to him just as the war was starting. He got colder after the academy." He turned and walked way leaving the disturbed officer kneeling in the hallway.

Jazz twitched internally; all the pieces had just fallen into place. **Blaster, we need to talk.**

-Five orn later-

Prowl walked slowly towards Jazz's quarters, grateful that he was willing to spend time together after all the issues that had come up recently. He knew he'd worn himself down ever since that…spark drainer…had arrived at this base. Even though he knew Blaster wouldn't try anything this near to Prime he couldn't make himself be near him or his brood.

Opening the door, he saw the black-and-white form sitting on his birth. Exhausted, he walked over and sat down next to him. "I'm sorry I've been so busy recently. What do you want to do tonight?"

"We need to talk, Prowl." Strangely Jazz wasn't touching him.

"About what, Jazz?" Prowl reached over and hesitantly placed a servo on Jazz's arm.

"Blaster." His flat tone echoed in the silence of the room.

So it had come to this. Jazz was tired of him and his issues and turned to the Host. "Why are you bringing him up now?" Prowl snapped as tension spread through his frame. The thought of Jazz with Blaster disturbed him on a number of levels. "Are you tired of waiting me? I'm sorry I can't just climb into your berth."

Before Jazz could speak the door opened, and a disturbingly familiar red-and-gray form entered the room. Blaster crossed the room and stood on the other side near the door to the wash rack.

"I see you've made your choice, Jazz. I will see you at the next meeting." Prowl couldn't keep his sensory panels from drooping. He got up and started back towards the door, keeping his sensors traced on the Host.

"I'm not choosing Blaster over you, love." Jazz's smooth tones flowed into Prowl's audios. "This has nothing directly to do with us."

The door refused to open. Silently cursing Spec Ops, Prowl pressed his back lightly against the door as he tried to comm Red Alert. Only expected silence met his call. "What do you want from me?"

"You keep pushing everyone away; it took me vorns to get you to open up at all. You flinch whenever I try to touch you intimately. Even though you're good at hiding it, I can tell you're afraid of Blaster. You're skittish around the symbionts even though you know they work for Spec Ops as well as Communications. Finally your entire clan hates Soundwave with a passion I've only seen one other place. Prowl," Jazz said quietly, "I'm sorry I'm doing this to you but I need to know if I can trust you with my agents' safety. As Spec Ops commander, I've just got one question." After a pause, Jazz continued. "Did Soundwave force you to help create Ravage?"

After a long, tension-filled pause, Prowl's shoulders slumped. "How did you figure it out?"

"My clan's been allied with Blaster's clan for a long time. I know a lot more about Hosts than most mechs. I also know that Soundwave was at the Enforcer Academy at the same time you were; it was in your file. Putting that together with your behavior…Ravage is the right age."

"Prowl, he was thrown out of our clan for past cruelties, but we didn't imagine he'd ever do something like that. He would of had to hide with Megatron after…we would have dismantled him if we'd found out what he'd done. To do that to an unwilling mech.…" Blaster trailed off, disgusted by what he'd learned. No wonder Prowl distrusted his kind.

"I was foolish enough to trust him and paid for my inexperience. I learned from my mistake." Prowl turned away, panels drooping.

Jazz got up and walked over to Prowl, reaching out to touch him. Prowl shrank back from his touch, pulling his plating tighter against his frame. He didn't seem able to look Jazz in the visor.

"Prowler, did you think I'd blame you love?" Jazz grabbed Prowl's waist and pulled the now trembling mech into his arms. "Why would you think that would make me not want you?" Jazz gently led him over to the berth, coaxing Prowl to lay down next him on the pad. Tucking his head into Jazz's shoulder, Prowl finally broke down.

Nodding quietly at his friend, Blaster slipped out of the room, leaving the pair curled up on the berth. **We'll keep his secret for him.**


End file.
